


tied down like two ships

by hharrytomlinson



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alpha Harry, Alpha Liam, Alpha Niall, Alpha Zayn, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Drabble, M/M, Omega Louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-01
Updated: 2015-01-01
Packaged: 2018-03-04 19:17:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3084842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hharrytomlinson/pseuds/hharrytomlinson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis' the only omega in London. His tribe sells him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	tied down like two ships

**Author's Note:**

> this is a drabble that's been in a doc for awhile and i just want it gone and posted okay bye  
> [yell at me on tumblr](http://hharrytomlinson.tumblr.com)

Louis closes his eyes and rolls his wrists to test the boundaries of his restraints. The alpha who’d wrapped the rope around his left wrist had done so with a gentle grin, yet the knots turned out tight. The one who’d tied his right was handsome and in any other situation, Louis’ type. Except the circumstances of which Louis was to please Styles’ tribe native to the land of London was unknown. After being an object of bargaining in his home tribe, Tomlinson, Louis’ left uncertain of how exactly to function, and finds himself running on instinct.

Louis’ instincts tells himself not to argue with any of the leader, Harry’s, men. So he doesn’t try to break himself free, is well aware that there’s no home for him back in his tribe and this is where he’s meant to be now. An omega in a tribe full of alphas.

Nevertheless, there are parts of Louis that defy his instincts, such as his mouth which laugh at the alphas before him and explain his intentions, and that, “It’s not like I’m going to run away.” The ties stay on his legs and when Louis tries to itch his inner knee with his opposing foot, his feet are then tied to the ends of the bed as well.

Louis could live without four alphas staring at his naked body in a foreign bedroom that’s much nicer than any room he’s ever been in. The bedposts looks to be gold, and that alone could convince him not to pull at his restraints, in fear that he’d scratch the eloquent poles he’s tied to. He’s being prepared for something that Louis can only assume to be sex to get their leader off, to help him relieve whatever stress comes with being the leader of a tribe, and to allow him to get on with his day a little happier. Louis’ happy to help, but could do without strange men squirting lube on his stomach and fingering him open because he’s not in heat nor is he turned on enough to produce slick of his own.

None of the men seem intelligent enough to know that if they even attempted to turn the omega on, the lube would go unneeded. At the same time, none of the men seem completely comfortable with what they’re doing either, and are obviously running on orders.

“Is he the only omega in the Tomlinson tribe?” Louis can hear a blonde man ask the one who tied his right wrist and instantly despises him for speaking of him in the third person. He’s feet away and leaning against the wall, watching Louis sit still in bed and stare at the ceiling.

“The only one in London.” The man who tied Louis’ left wrist cuts in, and Louis wishes they didn’t have this sort of information. But they do.

There’s no wonder why Louis was such a value to be bargained for, for after migrating from France to England, everyone seemed to know of the Tomlinson tribe, picking up on Louis’ scent, to the point where he needed alphas around him at all times. The only ones who were trusted were his parents and sisters, direct relatives of his, and he can’t help but miss them dearly, feeling like they’ve been apart forever, where as it can’t have been longer than two days.

Louis thinks he’s fallen asleep after countless minutes with his eyes closed, until boots are hitting the tiled floor and his eyes snap open to find a tall man standing over him, watching him in every which way.

“Is he prepped?” Once the stranger’s attention is away from Louis, it doesn’t go back. Louis watches him walk around the bed and shuffle through a night table to read the label on the bottle of lube. He kicks off his shoes and undoes his tie, and that’s when it’s obvious that this has to be the leader of the tribe, Harry Styles.

“Two fingers prepped, sir.” The darker haired male with skin that doesn’t match the rests, too much of an olive color to be so, speaks up, and it’s then that Louis realizes that none of the men are related like everyone in his tribe are.

“Good,” Harry grins, “I want it to hurt.”


End file.
